


Pitch Purrfect

by CrimsonShades



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Although the gender is mostly ambiguous so go off, Cuddling, F/M, Female MC - Freeform, May I offer you some fluff in these trying times, No beta we die like alternate timeline MC, Now go home, Pining, you're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonShades/pseuds/CrimsonShades
Summary: Hey, remember that 'Even the Strong Get Sick Sometimes' text convo? Because I do.I'm a 90's kid, I'm physically incapable of forgetting things, or so I'm told. Where'd I hear that? I forget.You're harboring a fugitive, out of the goodness of your heart.
Relationships: Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 171





	Pitch Purrfect

**Author's Note:**

> So, you can all probably guess who my favorite boy is, but do you know my second favorite?  
> Well, you probably do now.
> 
> Special thanks to my neighbor's cat who sometimes slips into my apartment, because when in doubt on how to write Satan, just think about what a cat would do in his place.
> 
> I know he drinks coffee, but I just really really see Satan as a tea kinda guy.
> 
> Unrelated, but he's my spirit animal.

"Have you seen Satan around?", Lucifer asks, like he didn't just openly threaten both Satan and Mammon in the group chat that you're also in.  
"Nope, sorry", you respond. You know, like a liar.  
"Then surely you wouldn't mind letting me into your room to take a look for myself. It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that with your track record - I don't believe you."  
"That's fair", you cede, but keep the door ajar. You and the oldest of the demon brothers are conversing through a gap between door and frame and you're trying your hardest to keep it that way, pressing against the door. "But don't come in anyway. Because, uh, my laundry is scattered all across the room. Yeah."  
"And why is that?" There's that very distinctive 'You just fucked up' tone to Lucifer's voice and if you don't give him a good excuse, you'll have fucked up, indeed.  
"Mammon went through my wardrobe in search of cash and I haven't gotten around to picking my stuff up yet." That sounds good enough. Sorry, Mammon. You make a mental note to treat him to a meal, given that he survives today.  
From the corner of your eyes, you can see Satan slip out from behind your bed where he'd been hiding and very quickly pull the contents of your wardrobe out and scatter them on the floor. At the same time, Lucifer pushes against the door, so he's clearly not believing you. You only manage to resist him for a few seconds, but that's clearly all the time Satan needs before hiding behind your bed again.  
Before you truly know what hit you, you're face to face with Lucifer, knowing that your shirts and skirts and pants and socks and especially your underwear are sprinkled all over the room behind you. He stares for a few seconds and you hope to whatever there is out there to hope to that he's just as uncomfortable as you are. You can definitely feel a heat rising to your cheeks.  
"I'll be tending to Mammon shortly", he assures you, like that's an apology. You nod meekly while he pulls out his D.D.D. and taps away at it. His eyes are locked on you, which you are somewhat grateful for, because it means he's not mentally rifling through your underwear. Nothing happens for a while and after what feels like a solid minute, he simply nods, turns around and leaves you to your own devices. Once the door is shut, you sink to your knees with a sigh and pick up your scattered laundry.  
"Was that really necessary?", you ask, once sufficiently sure that Lucifer is out of earshot.  
"It's not really my fault if you're a bad liar." Satan huffs, but there's a visible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You need to be prepared."  
"I wouldn't have to _lie_ if you hadn't just come in here. How was I supposed to prepare for that?"  
"I can leave", he offers and already takes a step towards the door, but you scramble to get back on your feet and give him a nudge towards the bed.  
"Where would you even go?"  
"I have friends who'd take me in."  
"You're in no condition to just roam around." He looks like he wants to protest, but then he grimaces, like he's about to sneeze. You pinch his nose and his eyes widen, but the strangled inhaling stops.  
"Stay", you offer, formally this time.  
"Thank you." Satan smiles. It looks sincere. Even if this were all some convoluted plan to get you to take care of him - which you'd doubt, he's not the type of person to ask people for help, even indirectly - it's basically already been worth it for the sight of this smile alone. "Ah, but where are you going to sleep-"  
"Don't worry about that now", you demand, ears already feeling hot again. "Just get some rest."  
"Shouldn't I at least help with the-", he gestures around the mess he made to cover his ass.  
"I'll handle it", you cut him off. Your head is close to boiling. You really don't need Satan digging around in your underwear.  
He gives you a puzzled look, which is quickly replaced with a smile and lies down in bed, on top of your covers. "Thank you."  
"Don't worry about it."  
You get back down and keep picking up your things. Satan doesn't watch you, which you can either interpret as watching a human crawl around on the floor and picking things up being boring to watch, or he's still sorry and at least not trying to humiliate you further. You find that you can live with both.  
"Oh, Lucifer called me", he points out after a while. "When he was still in here."  
"That explains why he was tapping around on his D.D.D.", you think out loud.  
"It's a good thing I muted it then." Without having to turn your head, you can hear the grin dripping from Satan's words.  
You can't really help but chuckle as you gather the last few pairs of socks in your arms. "Are you going to call him back?"  
"What do I look like to you, some kind of idiot? I'm not Mammon."  
"We wouldn't be in this situation now if you hadn't acted like you wanted to poison Lucifer when he got sick", you point out to him. Close your wardrobe and lock it. You give the room one last one-over, contently determine that there's no more laundry lying around - which means you'll need another lie for when Lucifer inevitably tries his luck in here again - and finally turn around to the tomcat who strayed to you.  
He really did just slip through your barely opened door and asked you to hide him, mere seconds after you read Lucifer's threat in the group chat. Like a cat.  
"You think I was acting?" Satan looks hurt.  
You shake your head.  
"Besides, the only thing that got me in this situation was me getting sick. I would've gotten away with it otherwise."  
"How are you feeling then?" You sit on the edge of the bed and look at him.  
He sounds a little congested, his voice a bit more nasal than normally, but other than that, he seems to be fine. His hair is looking slightly more tousled and you really have to resist the urge to run a hand through it. You always do. It has this silky sheem to it and just plain looks like it'd be fun to touch.  
Satan's emerald eyes crinkle in amusement as he notices you watching him, but there's also a redness growing in his cheeks that wasn't there before.  
"I'm fine", he assures you.  
"Anything I can do for you?"  
"You're already doing plenty, just harboring a fugitive." He smiles, then briefly grimaces again, pulls a packet of tissues out of a pocket and blows his nose. "Sorry."  
"How about a tea?"  
Satan hums. "Well, if you're offering, I'm not going to say no."  
"I'll do that then and you get some rest. Deal?" You get off the bed.  
"Hey", he pouts. "There's no need to treat me like a child. I've had colds before. This'll go away in no time. Honestly, I'm more worried about passing it on to you."  
"It's a demon cold, though. I'm a human. So I really doubt I'll catch it."  
He doesn't look convinced.  
"And if you do pass it on to me, you can just nurse me back to health in turn." You smile, even wider when you see the flustered expression on his face and his lips quietly mouthing 'okay' before slipping through the door and out into the corridor.  
Whew.  
Your room was really starting to feel hot there. The hall is much cooler.  
Sauntering towards the kitchen, you can hear a scream coming from somewhere in the house. It's not difficult to recognize. Lucifer must have gotten his hands on Mammon, then. He also caught that cold, so he wasn't as fast as usual.  
You take a mental note to _definitely_ get him something nice later and enter the kitchen. To no one's surprise, you find Beelzebub digging through the fridge. He turns around when he hears you enter though.  
"How are you?", he asks. Carrying boxes of stuff in his arms.  
"I'm fine, why?" You stroll over to the kettle and put it on the stove.  
"Everyone's getting sick lately. I'm worried."  
"Don't worry about me, I don't get demon sicknesses. I get human diseases all of my own." He only looks more concerned, so you hurry to switch the subject. "What about you though? You feeling okay?"  
"Yeah", he nods. "I don't get sick. I'm worried about Belphie though."  
"Why don't you make him a soup? I hear that helps with sickness. Even if he doesn't have anything yet, it'll be prophylactic. Not to mention, he'll be happy."  
Beels expression lightens up. "That sounds great. What are you doing, by the way?"  
"I'm making tea. Where are the tea bags?"  
"Ah, right up here." He opens a cabinet you wouldn't have been able to reach even standing on the very tips of your toes. "Which one do you want?"  
You try to remember. There's often a minty aroma wafting over from Satan's cup.  
"Anything with mint? What's Satan's favorite blend?"  
Beel plucks a tea bag out of the chaos that is the tea cabinet and hands it to you. "This one is."  
"Thank you." You give him a bright smile. The water's boiling, so you pour a cup. Not specifically Satan's go-to mug though, because that might be suspicious, if Lucifer catches you.  
Beel keeps watching you, like he's never seen someone plunk a tea bag into hot water. "I'm trying out the different brothers' favorite drinks", you say. Who's a bad liar now, Satan? "Because I figured it might be fun. You can tell me yours, if you want and I'll do that next."  
Beel's expression shifts from not only believing you to super excited and after giving you pointers on how much sugar Satan drinks his tea with, he tells you about this hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream he loves until it's time to pluck the tea bag out of its hot bath.  
"I'll be sure to try that next time", you assure him and honestly, you might, that did sound like it would taste amazing.  
While Beel moves over to the stove to make that soup for Belphie, you carefully carry your mug back to your room. Nobody bothers you, thankfully and when you enter, you find Satan sprawled out on your bed, reading a book.  
"Hey there."  
He looks up first, then puts the book down and sits up, too. "That was fast."   
You hand him the mug and he takes a sip, even though the tea should still be pretty hot, by all accounts and then looks at you in a way you can't quite place, but that makes your knees feel weak, so you casually sit back on the edge of the bed.  
"Thank you."  
"I told you, it's fine. Just try to get some rest and get well soon." Before you know it, you've leaned in and smoothed a hand over his bedhead. His eyes widen a bit, but then his expression goes soft, softer than the pillows he's sitting on and he pulls you closer. Your face bumps into his shoulder and for a second, you can't tell if you can just feel the warmth he's radiating on his face, if he's feverish, if you're feverish, or if you're just having increased blood flow to your general facial area.  
"This is okay, right?" He asks after a while. One of his arms is loosely wrapped around you, the other still holding his tea.  
You nuzzle your face into his shoulder and just keep it there for a minute. Feeling the fabric of his jacket and shirt against your skin, his warmth. "Yeah", you mutter, "this is fine."   
Satan smells like herbs, a faint mixture of coffee and tea and, of course, old books. You've always loved that smell. Just opening a really old book you found at the library, or at home, and taking it all in, all the years it's been around for, all the experiences it must've absorbed. Kind of like Satan himself.  
He takes another sip, but you hardly mind. You're perfectly fine holding him, being held by him and letting your mind wander. At one point the realization that he's drawing shapes on your back is seeping in and, not one to be one-upped, you bring a hand up to run it over the back of his head. Comb your fingers through his fluffy hair.  
You swear, if he could purr, he would.  
  
Shortly after you're reasonably sure time has ceased to exist, the only things left in the universe Satan, yourself and the embrace you're in, do you hear steps out on the hallway. Satan hands you the mug and rolls off the bed just before you hear a knock. He gives you a brief thumbs up before his head disappears from your sight and you realize that you were just torn out of a really comfortable mood. Your head was filled with cotton and your limbs with a glitter that was emanating a cozy kind of warmth. You could have fallen asleep like that, you realize.  
Without really asking, that knock being all the warning you got, Lucifer opens the door. Of course it's him. Nobody else would have the audacity to just tear you out of the loving embrace you were in.  
He seems briefly taken aback by the challenging look you shoot him as a result of your agitated thought process, but seemingly decides to disregard that as well.  
"I don't suppose you've seen Satan around since my last visit, then?"  
"Lucifer, I was just going to get ready to go to sleep. If you don't suppose so, then what are you doing barging in here?" Oops, that was a bit much. You can tell as much. So you pull yourself together and smile at him, because you can already tell he's getting ready for, well, something, and you're far from dying to find out what it is.   
"You were sick up until recently as well. Maybe you should take it easy for a bit. If I see Satan around, I'll tell you. But for now, maybe just go to sleep. I know I'm gonna."  
You pluck the mug down on your nightstand and get off the bed.  
Lucifer hesitates briefly.  
"You're right", he breaks the silence during which you stepped towards your wardrobe. "I'm sorry. You clearly didn't do anything wrong." The 'today - but I'll be keeping an eye out for you'-part remains unsaid, but you can hear it in the air, see it in his eyes and you smile.  
"Goodnight, Lucifer", you tell him.  
He takes half a step into the room and you feel your heart jump, because what if he does search it for Satan and finds him and then you'll both be in trouble, but all he does is pick up the empty mug.  
"I'll be taking this back to the kitchen", he informs you and is out the door before you can even utter a surprised "Thanks". You stand there for a few moments before Satan crawls out from behind the bed and steps beside you.  
"Maybe I should head back to my room", he murmurs.  
"You don't want to stay?" The words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them and you both stare at each other, equally wide-eyed, surprised and slowly but surely going red.  
"I mean", he mutters, very distinctly avoiding eye contact with you, "I wouldn't wanna impose."  
"I told you, it's fine. If you get out there now, Lucifer's going to catch you for sure."  
Satan bristles a bit, then sighs. "Alright. But I'm definitely going to repay you in some way. Just you wait."  
You smile at him. "I can't wait."  
  
Satan turns around and covers his eyes while you change into your pajamas. He does seem pretty tired by the time you get under the covers, but makes an effort to stay away from you and not touch you, which quite frankly, breaks your heart. You have to keep your hand from seeking out his.  
"Would you mind if I read a bit more?", he asks. "I'm almost done with this chapter."  
"That's fine", you assure him, without having really heard him out completely.  
But he gives you another one of those smiles and your body remembers the way it felt earlier. Glitter in your limbs. You check your D.D.D., nothing new there, so you twiddle your thumbs until there's something shoved into your periphery.  
"I'm getting a bit of a headache", Satan admits, sheepishly. He's holding his book out to you, you realize. "Would you mind reading it to me?"  
"No, not at all", you respond and you mean it this time. You watch him smile, then open the page he has his thumb in - he pulls his hand away before you can touch him, again, like, damn it, and start reading in a soft voice.  
"What is this", you interrupt yourself after a page.  
Satan closed his eyes, but cracks one open at your question and furrows his brows. "It's a critical dissection of the demonic psyche in extraordinary circumstances that force one to-"  
"It's a murder mystery, isn't it?"  
He grumbles quietly.  
"And a really graphic one at that."  
"You don't have to read it, if you don't want to", he points out.  
"No", you hold the book out of his reach before he has the chance to take it, not that he even makes an attempt. "I want to."  
So you keep reading out very graphic murder scenes and the gritty detective struggling with life and all it entails until there's a weight on your shoulder and it occurs to you that Satan passed out on you.  
It's too cute. There's this urge to pet him, again, but you don't want to wake him. So you move the book to your nightstand, as carefully as you can, without moving too much and disturbing the precious boy getting his well-earned rest on you.  
Still, one of you must've shifted too much because his head slips and then he's resting on your thigh. Undisturbed. Still wearing that peaceful expression on his face. Almost cherub-like. If that comparison isn't too jarring to make.  
Your fingers slip and you feel his forehead. He's not feeling feverish, but he lets out a soft sigh at your touch regardless.  
Carefully, inch by inch by careful inch, you nudge him until his head is sinking into your pillows and you can wrap the blanket around him, then yourself as you nestle close to him. There's a content feeling burning in your stomach as you snuggle up to him. Satan doesn't make you wait at all, wrapping his arms around you and almost crushing you against him, making you wonder if he was truly asleep to begin with, or if that was just an act.  
You find yourself not minding as you sink into his warmth, one hand again tangled in his hair, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him close in turn. There's a feeling, almost like his lips ghosting over your forehead and you might've imagined him whispering "good night" to you, but either way, you're perfectly content letting your head sink against his chest, feeling his chin on the top of your head and letting the pleasant feeling run through you until you're nodded off. You dream of cats and petting soft, golden fur and one of them is solving a murder mystery, for some reason.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so all over the place lmao
> 
> You can't write Satan properly without sticking it to Luci at the same time, sorry babe xox


End file.
